


It's Your Turn

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a noise in the night creates a disagreement</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Your Turn

**Author's Note:**

> ** Outlaw Days

It’s Your Turn – this is a Story Challenger – The challenge word was March

 

“It’s your turn.”

“It’s not. Why do you always put this on me?”

“Fine, fine then let’s do a coin toss.”

“I don’t want to flip a coin. ‘Sides I never win at your coin tosses anyway.”

“Well, if you don’t want to do a coin toss. Then it is your turn.”

“That is not fair.”

“Fair, you want to talk about fair. Do you hear that racket? If you don’t do something about it. I’m going to get up, put my boots on and go outside and shoot him.”

“That is what you always say but we both know you are not going to shoot him.”

“Really? You want place a bet on that, when this is the third night running.”

“Alright, maybe not, but you don’t want to shoot him.”

“Do you not hear that?”

“Yeah but I’ve heard it before. Like you said, it’s the third night running just put your head under your pillow and go back to sleep.”

From outside, a loud drunken voice can be heard singing,  
When Johnny comes marching home again,  
Hurrah! Hurrah!  
We’ll give him a hearty welcome then  
Hurrah! Hurrah!  
The men will cheer and the boys will shout  
The ladies they will all turn out  
And we’ll all feel gay, when Johnny comes marching home.

“How in the seven names of hell, am I supposed to fall asleep, listening to that caterwauling? Besides you’re avoiding the point.”

“What point?”

“That it is your turn.”

“It is not my turn and I’m not going out there and I’m not flipping a coin about it either. Jeez, just go to sleep or at least let me go to sleep before I come in there flatten and you.”  
When Johnny comes marching home again,   
Hurrah! Hurrah!  
And let each one perform some part,  
To fill with joy the warrior’s heart,  
And we’ll drink our fill to Johnny – when he comes marching home.  
Hurrah! Hurrah! March, march, march, march, march, march,  
When he comes marching home, march, march, march . . . .

“Yup that is it. The final straw. Now he is making up his own words. I’m done and I’m going out there.” 

“You forgot your boots.”

“I don’t need them and I don’t need to hear from you, because I still say it’s your turn.”

“Well if you plan on wrestling him into the bunk house. You are going to want your boots.”

“Nope just going to shoot from the front porch.” 

“Aw, come on everyone is entitled to blow off a bit of steam.”

“Yeah well no one else sings, ‘When Johnny Comes Marching Home’ as they march around under a full moon drunk, to blow off steam.”

“So next month, we will make sure we’re not here during, the full moon.”

“What about now?”

“Now you go back to bed.”

“Nope I am already up.”

“You’re up because you’re arguing with me and by the way keeping me up. If you would just, go lie down and stop talking, you could go to sleep. I know I would.”

“That’s because you can sleep anywhere. It is fact, as well-known as you can eat anywhere at, anytime too. Well I can do neither, so I am going outside and shooting him.” 

“He had his gun with him last time, so don’t you dare open that door.”

“What?”

“See I told you it was your turn because I dealt with the gun last time. But I know, I do not want you going out there, as gun play is my job.”

“Then do your job.”

“No, he will wind down. Go back to your room and go back to bed.”

A loud, derisive snort rang out in the dark.

To welcome home our darling boy,  
Hurrah! Hurrah!  
The lads and lassies say march, march, march, march, march coming home march. . 

“Fine, I won’t go out there. And, I won’t shoot him. But as the leader of this here Gang, I am banning whiskey, pop skull, moonshine, stump juice anything and everything that will cause inebriation to be brought up to the Hole.”

“Ah Tarnation. I ain’t letting you turn this into a dry county because of one gang member. I will stop him.”

“Thanks Kid”

“But just so you know it ain’t my turn.” Kid grumped stomping to the front door in his boots with his colt dangling from his hand. He paused to glare at his cousin before jerking the door open. And stepping through he mumbled, “And I still might flatten you when I get back.”


End file.
